


Iridescent

by Madmarch



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Butterflybog - Freeform, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 11:38:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5126108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madmarch/pseuds/Madmarch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bog is invited to a Fairy ball. Problem is that he's not familiar with wing etiquette.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Iridescent

**Author's Note:**

> This has been a loooong time in the making. After reading 'A Pair of Brown Eyes and Shimmering Wings' by EndoratheWitch I had a little idea.

Deep in the shadows of The Dark Forest, a young Bog King stood in front of a mirror practicing his lines.  
“Princess Marianne, it is an honour to be invited… no…. good evening Your Highness… gah… umm… lovely party you’re ha--“  
“Ahem!” Bog spun around to find his mother in the doorway with her hands sat firmly on her hips and a single eyebrow was raised in askance. “I don’t know why you’re stressing sweetie. It’s not like you’ve never been to a party before!”  
“I am aware of that thank you Mother. However, I doubt that fairy parties are anything like the ones we goblins have.”  
Griselda rolled her eyes and waved her hands dismissively. “True, but I still think you’re worrying over nothing. Just be polite and don’t forget to use those wings of yours! I remember my cousin Maude saying something about fairies using their wings as a way of expressing themselves.”  
Bog groaned and his shoulders slumped in resignation. He had heard this suggestion one too many times before and it became one of the rare instances that he cursed the fact that he had wings.  
“I think that you’ll find that mine are vastly different to those of a fairy, Mother.”  
“The principle is still the same,” replied Griselda without missing a beat, “And being different is a good thing; it’s what gets you attention from the ladies!” She punctuated this with an exaggerated waggle of her eyebrows which caused Bog to grimace. His mother spent far too much time trying to set him up on dates. He had accepted the invitation to the fairy ball based on the premise that if he wasn’t around then she couldn’t play matchmaker. Sadly for Bog he underestimated his mother’s determination.  
Taking hold of the staff that had been resting next to the mirror, he straightened his shoulders and put on his best scowl.  
“Look how handsome you are!” squawked Griselda as she sidled up next to him. She patted him on the arm, “You remind me so much of your father.”  
Bog saw that her smile had turned watery. He couldn’t handle emotion of this kind so he quickly steered the conversation back to fairies and wing etiquette. Thankfully it seemed to work and before he had the chance to fully appreciate the relief he felt at managing to avoid having his mother crying on his shoulder, he was being manhandled out of the room whilst she continued to further enlighten him with more pearls of wisdom from Cousin Maude.

  
……………………………………………………..

  
Marianne was bored. She was standing in one of the most lavish parties she had ever attended; one that was being held in her honour. Her sister Dawn had insisted on only the best of everything and her father had happily agreed. Despite Marianne’s protests about the whole thing she had been told in no uncertain terms that her coming-of –age celebration was no mere birthday party and that she should enjoy it because it only happens once.

  
So here she was, feeling awkward and out of place, wearing a lavish gown and a tight smile. She was being showered with all manner of compliments from fairies young and old. That she could handle, but what she disliked immensely was the false adoration shown by the eligible, young men. They waited like snakes in the grass and when one saw an opportunity they would slide up to her. They would flash their practiced smiles and flutter their colourful wings in an attempt to woo her but it only served to give Marianne a headache. When that didn’t seem to work they would attempt to garner her attention with remarks that were probably meant to be flattering; Marianne couldn’t help but pick out the veiled insults. “Princess Marianne, I almost didn’t recognise you in such finery...Your Highness has transformed into the picture of elegance and beauty… Does the princess dance as well as she spars?”

The worst part about the whole affair was that she had to choose someone for her first dance. She knew that everyone would be scrutinising her choice of partner and that there was a certain expectation that the male in question would be given priority in the courting rituals in the following months. Marianne was sorely tempted to pick her father for the task but Dawn had already clocked on to her plan and told her that it would probably end up making things worse as such an action would be interpreted as Marianne allowing her father to choose her suitor for her. Safe to say, she scrapped that idea pretty quickly.

  
She caught sight of Roland flirting with a red-headed fairy and as if he knew he was being watched, his gaze lifted to meet hers and broke out his trademark smirk. Marianne shuddered and looked away. She knew all too well what Roland was like, having experienced his duplicity first hand. At the last spring ball he had asked her to dance and spent the entire night being his usual charming self. Roland seemed to know everyone and they all graced him with delighted smiles and greetings of “Roland my boy” as if he were some sort of prodigal son. Marianne was ashamed to say that she had been sucked in by the whole charade; that was until she went looking for him in the garden and found him sucking on the face of some young, impressionable girl. She had left before either had noticed her and done her utmost to avoid him ever since. Unfortunately for her it seemed that eye-contact was an open invitation for him to renew his advances. She watched in horror as he said something to the young fairy that made her flush and dash off in excitement before he began sauntering over to her. “Buttercup I--“

  
There was a sudden fanfare that caught everyone’s attention and the whole room gasped as The Bog King was introduced. He strode purposefully down the stairs and directly towards her; the crowd parted before him until there was nothing but open space between the two of them. Marianne thought she saw a flicker of uncertainty cross his face before he set his jaw with determination and without warning, snapped his wings open.

  
There was another collective gasp, but this time it included her too. The Bog King’s wings, whilst at first glance seemed plain and tattered, were in fact more beautiful than any fairy’s. They caught every particle of light and refracted them all like a glass prism. The occupants of the ball room were bathed in a myriad of colours that danced across their skin. There wasn’t a single person who didn’t have their gaze fixed on The Goblin King as he passed by them.

  
Bog came to a stop in front of Marianne. His mouth seemed to be moving as though he was speaking but all she could focus on was the iridescent shimmer as his wings buzzed lightly behind him. She reached out her hand to him and he had scarcely taken it before she was leading him to the middle of the dance floor.

  
……………………………………………………..

  
Bog found himself in a situation that he was not prepared for in any way. He had presented himself to Princess Marianne and thanked her for inviting him. He had even remembered his mother’s advice about his wings. The Princess had offered her hand to him but before he could bow his head to kiss it, she had swept him away and begun dancing with him. This was definitely not how he expected the night to go. He had expected fear and disgust from everyone in attendance, but a quick glance around them room led to the realisation that the expression on people’s faces was something akin to awe. He suddenly felt very nervous. He could handle the looks of contempt and the rude remarks that were spoken loud enough for him to hear. This made him feel uneasy and so he chose to focus on the woman he was currently dancing with. The problem with that was that he suddenly became aware of two things. Firstly, that she was very beautiful and secondly, that she was standing very close to him.

  
……………………………………………………..

  
Being this close to him had changed things. He was so tall that he practically cast a shadow over her and this meant that the dazzle caused by his wings had lessened. For a split second she panicked. What on earth had she been thinking when she had taken his hand? In her defence, she hadn’t. Peering through the gap between his outstretched arm and torso, she could see the faces of the other guests as she waltzed by. To her utter delight she realised that every single fairy, old and young, male and female, was gazing in wonder at her dance partner – or more specifically his wings. Even Roland wasn’t exempt from the spell cast by them. She shifted her focus and was startled to find that Bog had the most vivid blue eyes that she had ever seen. How had she missed that? His wings you idiot, you were too busy gawking at his wings to pay attention to what the rest of him looked like. Now that she had time to absorb things properly, she could see that he wasn’t bad looking at all. She had heard stories from the other fairies about the fearsome Bog King. They had said that he was deformed and gruesome and even though Marianne would agree that he wasn’t conventionally handsome by fairy standards, she could also see that everything she had heard was greatly exaggerated. He was different, but she considered different to be a good thing.

  
She noticed his gaze was dart nervously around the room before coming to rest on her. Marianne smiled at him in the hope that it would ease his anxiety but instead he seemed to tense up further. The song was going to come to an end soon and she realised that needed to get him away from everyone before they regained their senses. Seeing that they had managed to dance their way over to the doors leading to the gardens, Marianne manoeuvred them so that when the song ended they could take their bows and move swiftly outside without being intercepted.

  
The pair stumbled out onto the terrace before Marianne dragged Bog down the steps and along a narrow path, stopping when they reached a gazebo covered in fragrant purple wisteria. She turned to address him but couldn’t seem to find any words. The whole situation was rather bizarre and she didn’t really know where to start. Thankfully she didn’t have to.

Bog swallowed loudly, “Ahem, yes… uh… thank you... I… I’m not sure… that is to say… I wasn’t really expecting that.”  
Marianne stared at him for a beat. “Do you mean to say that you don’t know what happened back there?”  
Bog shifted from one foot to another before shaking his head. He looked so utterly befuddled that Marianne couldn’t help but laugh. It started as a giggle and developed into a full blown belly laugh to the point where she had tears streaming down her face. Bog flushed with embarrassment. Clearly he was the butt of some joke that he wasn’t even in on and with each roll of laughter he could feel his shame turning into anger.  
She looked up at Bog through watery eyes and saw that his face had contorted into a deep scowl. Her eyes widened and her laughter ceased abruptly. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t laughing at you. It’s just that this whole situation is so utterly ridiculous and… well… your wings! You flapped your wings!”  
Bog’s expression morphed into one of puzzlement. “Yes, and? That’s what you do isn’t it? You fairies all greet each other by fluttering your wings.”  
“Yes but the colours! Fairies are sensitive to colour and yours, well…”  
She could see the exact moment that it dawned on him because his expression shifted into one of sheer horror. He bowed his head and tried to cover his shame with his hands. “Are you telling me that I’ve been parading myself around like some… some… ridiculous disco ball?” He peeked through his fingers with a pleading gaze. “Please don’t tell me that they were all looking at me like –“  
“They were all attracted to you. I’m afraid so. In fact, I think even the guys were a little love-struck by how pretty your wings were!” Marianne snorted so loudly that she shocked herself into silence.  
Bog grinned at this, “You know, you’re not what I expected.”  
Marianne scoffed, “Well I’ve never heard that before!”  
“Oh, I didn’t realise that princesses were fluent in sarcasm!” said Bog with mock surprise. “Do you happen to know any other languages?”  
“Mostly profanity,” she quipped. Bog’s smile grew wider.  
“You’re different,” he said and before she could make another witty comeback he added, “I like that about you.”  
Marianne blushed. She wasn’t used to sincere compliments and definitely not ones that favoured her more ‘unusual’ characteristics. “You’re not so bad yourself. Had I known that you were this interesting, I would have invited you here sooner.”  
This time it was Bog’s cheeks who tinged pink. There was a moment where the pair exchanged shy smiles and hands that had nothing better to do were twisted in a nervous fidget. Bog cleared his throat and spoke hesitantly, “You’re always welcome to come and visit. The Dark Forest that is, I mean… if you would like to?”  
Marianne’s eyes lit up and her entire face lifted into the most radiant smile that Bog had ever seen.

No-one else saw them again that night. The Goblin King and the Fairy Princess spent hours talking whilst hidden from the rest of the world. When twilight approached, they wandered along paths that were dimly lit by fireflies. Eventually the conversation turned to the many flowers growing in the gardens and Marianne found herself explaining the hidden meanings behind each one.  
“It would explain why my mother turned all sappy when I gave her primroses for her birthday. I’m afraid to get her flowers now in case I upset her, said Bog.  
Marianne laughed and nudged him, “Don’t be ridiculous! Trust your judgement. Go on, pick one for me.”  
Bog froze for a moment. What if he picked the wrong one? The worst case scenario was that she’d probably laugh and he’d look like an idiot. He looked around at the seemingly limitless number of blooms around them. Trusting his judgement he honed in on a vibrant purple amaryllis. Taking great care not to damage the petals with his claws, he plucked it and gently laid it in Marianne’s hands.  
She looked down at the flowers he had presented her with and fell silent. Bog shifted nervously from one foot to another. It must be bad if she wasn’t even laughing.  
“I told you I’d get it wrong. Gah, I’m such an idiot! I’m so sorry Marianne, I didn--“  
“Pride,” she said, “determination, and worth… worth beyond beauty.”  
She stepped closer to him and placed her hand over his, “Thank you Bog.” Bog smiled bashfully. Turns out his instincts weren’t so bad after all.

  
They returned to the gazebo in companionable silence and bid each other goodnight with promises to visit again in the near future. Before he left Marianne pressed something to his chest and with smile, retreated into the palace.  
Bog looked down to find that pinned to his chest was a boutonniere made of a single yellow daffodil.


End file.
